Can't Complain
by weasleytwinsammich
Summary: Songfic, based on Nickel Creek's "Can't Complain". Not DH compliant, Dramione, rated for later chapters. HGxBZ/HGxDM.


Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me... J.K. Rowling is a genius. This is songfic, based on "Can't Complain" by Nickel Creek. I hope you enjoy it!

**We Can't Complain**

_I made her smile I made her cry_

_I cleared her head and made her wonder why_

_I helped her live and made her want to die_

_But she can't complain, she can't complain_

The animosity started to ebb into good-natured jabs when she and his best mate, Blaise had started dating after the Ministry's fundraising ball six months ago. He could almost see what Blaise saw in her, even though she was still a bushy haired, ex-Gryffindor know-it-all, and one third of the now infamous "Golden Trio" that had defeated Voldemort nearly two years previous.

Hermione Granger was intelligent, clever, and witty. She took insults as well as she dished them out, was a lively and knowledgeable debater, and was intoxicatingly passionate about life. She had a sweet, slow smile, and an easy laugh. She wasn't terribly hard to look at either, her frizz had been tamed into a mass of sleek, bouncy curls, she was slender, long legs, curves in all the right places... And she was quite, Draco was sure, enamored with his charming Italian friend.

He was quite surprised when he got the flying memo asking if he'd like to meet for lunch at the the Three Broomsticks. As he entered the dimly lit restaurant, he caught a glimpse of her riotous curls in a secluded corner booth. He smirked as he ambled gracefully over to the table. She had a smear of ink across her lightly freckled cheekbone, slightly rumpled robes, and apparently thought that her quill was meant to double as a hair accessory.

"Running late, Malfoy?" she asked, looking up at him, her cheeks softly rosy from the heat of the fire in the huge hearth nearby, soft curls framing her delicate, heart-shaped face.

Draco smirked, think back to the very soft lips and even softer curves of the busty, blond witch that was the reason for his tardiness. _What was her name again? Rose, Lily, Daisy... Some kind of flower, maybe._

"Granger," he drawled, slipping fluidly into the booth across from her. "Don't you look a fright."

"Oh hush you. No wonder you're still the wizarding world's most eligible _bachelor_," she shot back, the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes flashing merrily. "Do you use that line on all of the...ahem, 'ladies' that you see, Malfoy?"

She took a deep pull of her butterbeer and smirked, a trait she had picked up hanging around the two previous Slytherins.

He scoffed at the way she made air quotes as she sneered the word ladies. "Just because Blaise has a penchant for dragging me into the middle of your issues doesn't mean I need you in the middle of my personal affairs, Granger."

She stuck her tongue out at him childishly and dabbed a couple chips in mayonnaise, not saying much else until she had finished her meal.

"So where _is _Blaise?" Draco asked, eying her empty plate.

Hermione wiped her mouth, and shrugged, hurt flashing through her eyes. "He canceled our lunch date for the third time this week, he must have a big project. Harry and Ron are both working a big case, I've hardly seen them lately... I was tired of eating alone."

He arched a single, perfect eyebrow. Blaise hadn't mentioned any big projects to him. He could care less about Potty and the Weasel King.

"Glad to know I'm your last resort for company," he responded dryly.

"OH!" she stammered, blushing. "That's not what I meant at all!"

"It was a joke, Granger, don't get your knickers twisted."

"You know, Mal- Draco," she said, suddenly serious. "I'm sorry about how things were in school... and during the war. It wasn't easy for anyone, and I'd imagine it wasn't easy for you especially; to turn your back on your family and all you knew..."

He cringed. He didn't know why she had asked him here, but he hadn't seen this one coming. Part of him wanted to know what she had to say. Part of him already knew, and he longed to hear the apologies and reassurances fall from her full, pink lips. The biggest part of him though, was consumed by the familiar wave of anger and sadness that came with remembering the war.

"Granger..." She cocked an eyebrow at him and he rolled his stormy gray eyes. "_Hermiooone_, shut your gob. I don't want your apologies, I don't want to have a heart to heart about it. I'd rather just forget about it, move on, live in the present, so forget whatever you were about to say."

Draco swore he could see the energy crackle through her mane of curls, and her big dark eyes shot sparks. He caught a whiff of cinnamon, vanilla, and old parchment as she shot out of her seat.

"Fine!" she huffed, slamming a few galleons on the table and storming out, robes billowing in a manner that would have done Severus Snape proud.

He caught up to her easily, his perfectly tailored trouser-clad legs one long stride for every two of hers. "Granger, did you forget we work in the same department?"

He grabbed the petite witch's slightly gnawed on, but, he noticed, meticulously clean, slender, soft, delicate... uh, fingers, and pulled her into the fireplace with him.

"Ministry of Magic!" he said in a thoughtful tone as they spun away.

When they reached the Department of Mysteries they stopped, looking at one another awkwardly.

"Well, thanks for the company, Malfoy," she said, turning towards her office.

"Draco."

She stopped at his staccato answer. "What?"

"You're Hermione, I'm Draco." He took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles in a gentlemanly gesture. He licked his lips, trying to ignore the subtle tingle in them. "Thank you for the invitation, Hermione."

And with that, he walked to his office and shut the door, leaving Hermione in the hallway wondering what had just happened.

She frowned at the still fluttering memo in her hand. Blaise was canceling their lunch date. She flinched as her stomach gave a loud rumble, announcing what the clock on the wall confirmed. It was lunchtime. She grabbed a quill and penned a quick note, sending it on its way as she left her office.

She was had already found a table and gotten her meal by the time Malfoy had arrived. Her mouth suddenly went dry as he sauntered towards her, hands in the pockets of his charcoal gray woolen trousers, with a white oxford peeking out from under what she was sure was a very expensive, soft black sweater.

He flipped his platinum blond hair out of his eyes and sat down across the table from her, ordering himself a glass of water.

"Running late, Malfoy?" she quipped, looking up in to his thin face.

He had grown into his sharp features, and while his face was still angular, he no longer looked like a squinty ferret. He was quite handsome really, with a thick shock of white blond hair fell softly over his forehead. His nose was straight and aristocratic, like his posture, his lips fuller and softer looking than any man's should be. He'd gotten quite tall, she only came up to his shoulder...barely. Hermione thought he might be quite handsome... if he was someone else.

"Granger," she heard him say as he fell gracefully into his seat. "Don't you look a fright."

Hermione fought the urge to pat her hair down and straighten her robes. Looks weren't important to her, and Blaise said that her disheveled, scholarly look was endearing. Plus, who had time for looks when she was so close to cracking the mystery she was working on.

"Oh hush you. No wonder you're still the wizarding world's most eligible _bachelor_," she shot back, the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes flashing merrily. "Do you use that line on all of the...ahem, 'ladies' that you see, Malfoy?"

Her stomach clenched at the thought of the endless parade of well dressed, rich slags that was at his disposal, he was after all, the Malfor heir. She took a deep drink of her butterbeer, trying to rid herself of the feeling that there was a Hungarian Horntail trying to claw it's way up her throat.

He scoffed at the way she made air quotes as she sneered the word ladies. "Just because you and Blaise has a penchant for dragging me into the middle of your issues doesn't mean I need you in the middle of my personal affairs, Granger."

She stuck her tongue out at him childishly, still trying to quash the sudden, intense, and very misplaced jealousy she was feeling and dabbed a couple chips in mayonnaise, not saying much else until she had finished her meal.

"So where _is _Blaise?" Draco asked, eying her empty plate.

Hermione wiped her mouth, a totally different feeling gnawing at her now, and lifted her shoulders half-heartedly. "He canceled our lunch date for the third time this week, he must have a big project. Harry and Ron are both working a big case, I've hardly seen them lately... I was tired of eating alone."

Hermione was lonely. Harry was now Mr. Ginny Weasley, Ron had married Luna Lovegood, and he and Harry were both well respected aurors. They were currently were out of the country, rounding up escaped Death Eaters. Blaise had seemed distracted lately, and was hardly around. Draco wasn't a friend Per Se, but they had gotten rivalry, and he was quite an engaging conversationalist.

"Glad to know I'm your last resort for company," he responded flatly

"OH!" she stammered, blushing. "That's not what I meant at all!"

"It was a joke, Granger, don't get your knickers twisted."

She flushed again, feeling the heat in her face.

"You know, Mal- Draco," she said, suddenly serious. "I'm sorry about how things were in school... and during the war. It wasn't easy for anyone, and I'd imagine it wasn't easy for you especially; to turn your back on your family and all you knew..."

His eyes glazed over for a moment, then darkened. It reminded her of a storm at sea, the grays and blues swirling moodily.

"Granger..." She cocked an eyebrow at him and he rolled his mercurial eyes.

"_Hermiooone_," he stressed, rather sarcastically she thought, "Shut your gob. I don't want your apologies, I don't want to have a heart to heart about it. I'd rather just forget about it, move on, live in the present, so forget whatever you were about to say."

Anger tore through her at his easy, snobbish dismissal of her olive branch. How dare he suggest that they just forget the months spent fighting, the lives lost, how they changed the world. A niggling voice at the back of her head told her he may be right, it may be time to let go, and it fueled the fire. How dare he make her even think it!

"Fine!" She fumbled through her pockets, and slammed some galleons down before turning on her heel, head held high, to leave.

She cursed her short legs as he caught her arm. His hand was more calloused than she thought it would be. She shook her head hard as he pulled her into the fireplace, her stomach clenching as his hot breath brushed her ear.

"Ministry of Magic!" he said, smooth voice ringing in her ears.

They walked silently to their destination, the Department of Mysteries.

"Well, thanks for the company, Malfoy," she said, turning towards her office, truly grateful for the fact she'd not had to eat alone...again.

"Draco."

She stopped short, bewildered. "What?" she asked.

"You're Hermione, I'm Draco." Her eyes widened at the butterflies in her stomach as he pressed his sinfully beautiful... his lips to her knuckles.

She closed her office door and sat down behind her desk, wondering when Draco Malfoy had gotten so... adult, and what on earth her boyfriend was doing that he couldn't answer her notes.


End file.
